Oil and Water
by Ren Mashiro
Summary: Harry reflects on the strange relationship between his best friend and godfather.
1. Sucker Punched

_*I am not JKR (Sniff) and therefore have no rights._

 **Present. Potter Residence. 2005.**

At first, it had been hilarious for Harry to watch his best friend, his sister in every way but blood, dodging and countering the verbal lance of his godfather. He had received a sneak peak of how diverting these sparring matches were back in the fifth year at Grimmauld Place, but he'd been too preoccupied to appreciate the entertainment at the time (seeing as he had been, he could freely admit it now, an unmitigated git of epic proportions with a penchant for explosive outbursts of angst and self-pity), and it had ended almost as soon it had begun when Sirius had been hexed through the veil.

It wasn't until two years later, immediately after some of the chaos following the Battle of Hogwarts had been managed, that he'd again received the opportunity to watch the inevitable combustion that was these two people's relationship. Harry couldn't help but reminisce about that day, rolling his eyes when as he thought about their reunion.

 **Flashback. 2 May 1998. Hogwarts, Great Hall.**

Harry had finally disentangled himself from the leeching grasps of the press. He wanted nothing more than to escape. There had yet been any time to emotionally process the day's proceedings. He was relieved to have come out the other side alive, along with Ron and Hermione. It was a fate that, despite repeatedly telling himself over the past few years would be his, he never truly thought he'd have. He was equally relieved to know many others had also come to see the end of this dark era; Luna, Neville, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall... Ginny. But he was ill-prepared for coming face to face with the losses that confronted him in the Great Hall; Fred's death which was crippling to the soul of his twin, Tonks who had left behind a now motherless infant and whose spouse Harry couldn't even begin to think about at the moment. Had Remus joined the Marauders in their next great adventure? Was Lavender able to overcome the mauling? Was that little Colin Creevy he saw asleep in the corner? Please, please let it be that he's sleeping! He didn't know the full extent of their losses and to be honest he didn't wish to yet. It was suffocating him. The losses, the uncertainty of what and who was left, and the crushing guilt that plagued him as a survivor. Harry was reeling. Thankfully, Hermione sensed that his mental faculties were on the cusp of short circuiting and led him away from the camera flashes and endless questioning and out to the now abandoned courtyard.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Hermione asked him so quietly it was almost like she thought anything above a whisper would send him spiraling over the edge. Perhaps it would have, she had always been intuitive about these things and he wasn't about to question it either way.

"Where is home, Hermione? Where would I go?"

Nothing but silence surrounded them. When he finally looked at her expectantly, he saw a series of emotions play across her face, each one fighting for dominance; pity, realization, sadness, confusion, panic, distress, and finally, loss. Understanding hit him like a whipping wind... he wasn't the only one with nowhere to go. She was as much a homeless orphan of war as he was. The only difference was that she'd had to make that impossible decision which made her so, the decision he himself would never have had the strength to make.

"It's not home anymore is it?" Harry didn't need to press further to understand that she meant the castle.

"No Hermione, it's not home anymore. Now it's just a good dream we one had as children."

"So where do we go now, Harry? The Burrow? Where do we start over? I can't help but feel like this is one of those moments... you know, a fork in the road, or some such thing. Like this next step is going to determine how you put yourself back together. Sorry, I'm rambling. And that's probably the last thing you need right now. What you need is a place to go and recover and to have a home. You don't need me bossing you around or... Gah. What am I doing? I'm supposed to be helping here, not-"

"It's okay, Hermione." He cut her off, understanding the rant was only out of concern for him and frustration for not knowing what to do for the first time in, well, probably ever. Fancy that; the savior without the world to save and the strategist without a plan. He realized right then just how similar a state they were in. He felt selfish for letting her take care of him while she went without equal care.

"I know you mean well." He assured her. She looked relieved but was still unable to mask the tears in her eyes. "And it's 'we,' Hermione." He continued. "You told me I needed a home, but you need one as well. That makes it a 'we,' and 'we' may have lost a lot today but we still have family as long as we have each other." And with that, he had made a decision. He grabbed her hand and disapparated them away without warning, grateful for both the first and last time that Hogwarts' wards had fallen.

They landed between houses 11 and 13 at Grimmauld Place and waited silently for number 12 to appear for them. They hastily moved forward and through the door as Hermione preemtively silenced Mrs. Black. Before she knew what was happening, Harry had spun her around into his chest, enveloping her in a hug.

"It will need a lot of work, Hermione, but it's somewhere to go. We can clean it out, replace the memories, and make our own in turn. We can make a home for ourselves. I know I'm a right moody git and it's only going to get worse when I'm not in shock, but I'm going to be selfish. Intentionally selfish, too, for the first time. I'm going to ask that you build this home here with me." He pushed her away far enough for him to look directly in her eyes.

"I can't do this without you, Hermione." He admitted, his voice trembling as he finally started to feel the abundance of emotions he'd been suppressing. "I can't do this without my sister." He choked on a sob as she crashed herself back into his chest, soaking the pitiful remains of his t-shirt with her tears. When those tears had at long last run dry, they simply remained standing there, clinging to each other with everything in their strength reserves. They rocked back and forth trying to extend that moment, the first moment in years where either of them had felt... safe. Both of them were home, or at least some semblance of it.

"So when did **this** happen, then...?" A familiar but forgotten voice jested suggestively from down the hall. "

It was the kind of well-meaning, if teasing, statement that you just knew was matched with a mischievous smirk and full repetoire of innuendos. Unfortunately for the deliverer of said statement, he hadn't taken into consideration the war-honed instincts of the cuddling teenagers and was promptly greeted by the business end of their wands.

"Sirius?" Harry breathed, his wand arm faltering as he struggled to maintain his aim in the wake of his thought-to-be-dead godfather.

"Harry, no! Think. Sirius is dead. The Death Eaters know that the fidelious charm has been broken and that we might return here. It's a trap... it has to be!"

"It's me, Harry. It's Sirius. Merlin, you've grown up since I saw you." No longer caring about the ramifications of having wands trained on him, and only wanting to be reunited with his godson, he raised his arms and moved swiftly forward toward Harry.

Spooked and fiercely protective, Hermione's wand clattered to the ground as her "Muggle Instincts," as Ron called them, took over. She wrenched Harry hard behind her wguke her fist hooked toward the oncoming threat and firmly colliding with Sirius' chin, sending his him backward before he quickly lost consciousness.


	2. Sirius Did WHAT?

**Present Time. 2005.**

Harry let out an involuntary giggle, a sound he never imagined himself capable of producing, at the memory of the wisp of a girl that was eighteen-year-old Hermione Granger sucker punching thirty-eight-year-old rebel aristocrat Sirius Black and dropping him in one go. It had been confusing as all hell at the time, but he could now easily see, not only the humor but a certain poetic justice as he looked back.

"Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter?" His wife asked him mockingly, snorting slightly at the sound her husband had just made which could be classified as anything but masculine.

"Har, Har Gin. I was just thinking about the day Sirius came back and Mione clocked him a good one." That was enough of an explanation for Ginny Potter to snicker, seeing as she had heard that story many a time over the past seven years. It had, of course, become something of a "big fish" story within their family and friends, with much irk to Sirius. Ginny was one of only two people to have actually witnessed that moment via pensieve and therefore understood how it could have drawn such an un-Harry-like sound from her husband. That also meant that she was one of the two people who felt obligated to keep the tale alive by constantly bringing it up around Sirius.

"So I take it that your little trip down memory lane means they're fighting again... or at least about to?"

"The latter," Harry confirmed. Fights between Hermione and Sirius had become known for being something of a novelty in the years post-war. How they, after all this time, could still find things to fight about, no one knew. But fight they did. It wasn't bickering either. They bantered, certainly, but when they fought it would rain proverbial missiles. It was strategic, it was merciless, and it was very, _very_ loud. They also nearly always coincided with these monthly dinners at the Potters' house. Harry still felt skeptical that it was any sort of coincidence, more confident in the theory that Sirius enjoyed an audience for their skirmishes.

"I wonder what it will be about this time." Ginny contemplated while tapping her finger thoughtfully to her chin.

"It rained yesterday when you boys were supposed to play Quidditch, do you think Sirius is blaming Hermione?... _Again_? Or you know what, I think Hermione mentioned Sirius drank the last of her skim milk even though she'd labeled it. That must be it. Do you think it's about that? Oh, wait, no! I bet you _anything_ she had some poncy date. Oh please tell me that's the reason. Their fights about dating are always audience worthy."

"Wrong, wrong and wrong." Harry smirked as Ginny pouted.

"It's better and, dare I say, _unprecedented_." Ginny was now thoroughly intrigued. What in the world have they not fought about that would make this, as Harry phrased it, "unprecedented?" She was dying to press him further but she was granted him his dramatic silence.

"Sirius bought a house elf."

Stunned silence engulfed them.

"He **WHAT**? Does that man have a death wish?" The decimal of her voiced astonishment was so inhuman Harry wouldn't have been surprised if only Sirius in his animagus form would have been able to hear it.

"Well, she _thinks_ he bought one." Harry amended. "He hired one, actually. He even negotiated her into taking a proper salary and paid holidays. But..." He trailed his speech off into silence

"But...?" Ginny pressed, now too impatient for her husband's theatrical flair.

"But she popped up when they were having breakfast, Hermione assumed the worst, and Sirius hasn't bothered correcting her."

"Oh, Merlin." Ginny breathed, eyes wide and glinting with unadulterated anticipation. "We need to sell tickets or something."

"What are we selling tickets to?" George asked he entered the room with the youngest Weasley. He sensed that mischief, or at least some good old betting, was afoot and he wanted in. Even Ron looked intrigued, the years where he'd taken over for Fred at the shop clearly making their appearance.

Harry tried to cover Ginny's mouth with his hand but she somehow managed to escape."

 **"HERMIONE THINKS SIRIUS BOUGHT A HOUSE ELF!"** She got out before smacking her husband upside the head for trying to intervene.

"Oh. My. Gods." George started, melodramatically falling to his knees, his hands raised in a way that clearly mimicked of the Southern Baptist Church. "Our prayers for tomfoolery have been answered. All hail Loki!" Ron could do no more than stand there sputtering, in all his typical eloquence.

"I know!" Ginny shrieked, causing all the males in the room to wince.

"I was wondering why it was so quiet, should have figured those two were about to have a row." Ron added.

"Who's having a row?" Questioned Remus as he stumbled out of the fireplace with a distressed Teddy who was obviously upset that he still wasn't allowed to floo by himself.

"Hermioned and Sirius." Everyone answered simultaneously.

"Ah, should have figured. Does this have anything to do with little Pinky?"

"Oh," grinned Harry, "it as _everything_ to do with little Pinky."

"Well this will be one for the books then, won't it." Remarked Remus, smiling in anticipation over the thought of the inevitable battle. The moment was broken, however, by Teddy heaving a massive sigh with every ounce of exasperation the seven (and a half) year old could muster.

"Are Aunt Mione and Uncle Sirius going to fight _again_?" Teddy was clearly not as appreciative of the evening's scheduled entertainment as the adults. "They're _always_ fighting."

"Yes, Teddy, they are." Remus answered shortly, clearly out of patience by this point in the day. Teddy only responded with an eye roll which Remus immediately reciprocated. The books talked about "the terrible twos" and "the teenage years," but they not once mentioned the seven and eight-year-olds who turn into hungry manticores and only look like the adorable child they are.

"I know it can be annoying, Teddy," Harry conceded placatingly to the child, "but I think this one will be the last for a while."

"What makes you say that, uncle Harry? Are they leaving or something?" The child was both hopeful his Godfather was telling him the truth, but equally nervous since he truthfully loved his Aunt Mione and Uncle Sirius.

"No, kid, they're not going anywhere. I just have a feeling is all..." Harry shared a cahooting smile with Remus. They both had had the same, long-shot idea about Hermione and Sirius' relationship ever since she socked him in the jaw that first night after the battle. One look at Remus and Harry knew they were thinking about the same memory.

 **Author's Note:**

 _I guys! I just wanted to say thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for your response to the story. This is my second fanfic and first story, so seeing your feedback just warms my heart. I am so appreciative for all you readers and I hope I can deliver! Now, my initial intent was to frame each chapter the same way I did the first- present then flashback. I started writing chapter two but now I have to relinquish the computer to my husband before I've written the flashback part so I decided to say 'to hell with it' and give you what I have and I'll do the flashback as a separate chapter... just know that it's coming. I know how it feels to have to wait for updates, so whenever I have content I'll give it to you, even if it's out of that framework like this one. I hope that's okay. Thank you again!_

 _Lots of love,_

 _Danielle_


	3. Hello, Kitten

_Previously:_

 _One look at Remus and Harry knew they were thinking about the same memory._

 **Flashback. Immediately after Hermione's "legendary" right hook.**

 **2 May 1998. 12 Grimmauld Place.**

"Hermione! What did you do?" Harry yelled, realizing he'd probably done so much louder than he had intended to, as the shock overpowered his senses, deafening his hearing. Through the tinny ringing in his ears, he somehow managed to apprehend Hermione's response.

"Um... I..." Stuttered Hermione, both terrified and surprised at what she'd just done. "I neutralized the threat?" Her explanation was posed as a bewildered and uncertain question, granting neither any reassurance.

"What do we do with him, and what the... what the _hell_ is going on? Is this some kind of sick joke?" Tears were threatening to spill over onto Harry's cheeks at the thought that some psychopath might intentionally and maliciously disguise themselves as someone who he'd loved so heartily and lost so prematurely.

Without acknowledging the question, Hermione tentatively began levitating the possible imposter to a chair in the kitchen before casting an incarcerous, binding him onto it.

"We wait," she spoke firmly, having finally mustered up the resolve to use her voice. "If it's polyjuice it will wear off eventually, so for now, we wait."

Just then, the tell-tale sound of the floo network echoed through the dilapidated house. The teenagers' eyes grew wide as they darted fearful glances at each other. Panic encroached on their minds as they realized they couldn't leave their prisoner unguarded and would, therefore, have to separate. Hermione's back straightened and her grasp on her wand tightened in preparation of her impending investigation. Harry, however, had beat her to it and sharply shook his head at her, signaling her to stay where she was, as he crept stealthily along the wall. He took a deep, settling breath before edging tactically around the kitchen door.

Relief flooded him when he identified the intruder as Remus. Just as quickly, that relief was taken over by anguish as he took inventory of his mentor's emotionless face, images of a cold and steely Tonks assaulting the forefront of his mind.

"Harry." Remus pitifully whispered, taking a step forward toward the boy before shaking his head in an attempt for clarity and directed his wand at him instead.

"Wait, we need to do this right. Ask me a security question, Harry. Voldemort may be dead but his army is not."

"What memory do I use for my Patronus?" He had only imparted that knowledge to two people, the only other person being the man who was supposed to be dead but instead, theoretically, strapped to a chair in the next room.

"Not a memory at all. You're surrounded by friends, by family, and by magic... a wistful but joyous daydream about what should have been." He watched as the grief in that final statement settled over Remus' face, nearly cracking his resolve. Instead, the widowed husband swallowed down the swell of that emotion as best he manage before asking Harry a question in return.

"What did you do when I told you my wife.. my wife... Dora..." He cleared his throat and tried again, refusing to crumble until it was proven safe to do so. "What did you do when I was scared of becoming a father?"

"I hit you. Pretty hard if I remember. It hurt..." His response was obstinate and he was grateful Remus was still capable of at least the meager twitch in the corner of his mouth that hinted at a smirk.

"...Which ironically seems to be the theme of the night." Remus' eyes looked troubled as they flicked to Harry's wand hand in search of evidence that he'd struck someone. "No, not me, but Hermione did."

Remus watched as confusion and betrayal played across Harry's face. He tried to walk through everything he knew of that day in an attempt at finding what piece of the puzzle he was missing that would cause _Hermione Granger_ , of all people, to hit someone, and why that hit would stir such turmoil in Harry. Remus' eyes popped wide as realization struck.

"Harry? By any chance, did someone else come through here tonight?"

"Yeah, I- Yeah." Harry was sputtering over his explanation as if his brain couldn't comprehend the words he was trying to sound.

"I _thought_ it was Sirius. But that's _crazy_ , right? Hermione's right, she has to be. It's either a trap or- I don't know! It doesn't make sense! Whoever it is, they're tied up in the kitchen. We're just... we're waiting." The sympathy Remus felt for him was obvious to Harry who knew the werewolf was privately lamenting about how he was too young to have lost so much and to have hope cruelly taunting him like this. People are supposed to be empowered and encouraged by hope, but sometimes Harry honestly felt he'd only been traumatized by it.

Harry's breath was becoming ragged and labored with the insurmountable level of frustration and grief he was feeling.

"It can't be him, can it? Remus, why can't it be him?" Before Remus could move forward to reassure him in his moment of vulnerability, Hermione's voice began shouting out from the other room.

"Harry! Come here... now. **COME RIGHT NOW**!"

Harry and Remus shared a look before jolting into the kitchen to find Hermione pressed into the counter, her wand out in front of her, trying to force as much distance as possible between her and the man they'd tied to the chair.

"He called me kitten, Harry. He- How is this possible? Remus? What are you doing here? Wha-"

"Good Godric, kitten, just have Moony ask his damn security questions so you can untwist your knickers already. I'd like to say a proper hello to my Godson sometime this century, preferably _without_ getting a right hook to the jaw, and these ropes are making that a bit difficult. Although, I have to say I'm surprised to find myself tied up by you... who knew the bookworm had a kinky side?" He topped his last remark off with the Sirius signature that was his sultry, simpering smile. All doubt had evaporated from everyone's mind.

 _Sirius. Black. Was. Back._

"I don't care that it's Sirius, Harry, I'm going to punch him again." Hermione snarled after gaining back her confidence, pushing herself away from the counter and began fixating on perfecting her wands aim at her target while sparks jumped treacherously off her hair.

It took Remus intervening and forcing her wand arm down for her flickering mane to smolder down to embers. Harry, on the other hand, had bonelessly sunk down to the floor, his arms limp at his sides as he openly gawked at his Godfather with unbridled amazement.

"It's really you, isn't it?" Harry asked simply, feeling as though the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

"It's really me, pup. Now, not to be a burden on my oh-so-hospital hosts, but could someone, for the love of magic, get me out of this mess?"

Hermione immediately cast a Finite Incantartem and, though she had the decency to looked chastised while doing it, still maintained her haughty air. Harry could tell she was glad Sirius was truly back, only that she was still feeling properly miffed and was, therefore, refusing to greet him with open arms as he, himself, was now doing. Although there was a certain way she was taking in his Godfather's appearance that he couldn't quite place, which was an odd circumstance as he'd always had the ability to read her well.

"So Remus," she was obviously desperate to draw attention away from Sirius for reasons unbeknownst to him, "you knew he was back?"

Remus, in turn, became immediately haunted as he did his best to offer his account of Sirius' return.

"It happened after Dora..." He started and failed before trying a different route.

"I went after Bella. I just wanted, needed, her dead. Gods, I must have fought my way through the entire castle trying to find her. I didn't know she'd already been killed by Molly just after. I envy that woman more than you will _ever_ know. I don't know how long I was looking for her, I was too obsessed. I just kept trying to take them all down in hopes that one of them would be that lunatic. Understanding what I know now, it must have been a long time. I think it's fairly safe to assume Sirius spat back through the veil after Bellatr- after 'she' died. Dolohov cornered me, I was too tired and too slow to duel him. Padfoot, and I do mean _Padfoot_ , got him from behind just as he was about to Avada me. The mongrel almost scared me to an early grave anyway. He got me out, though. Convinced me I wasn't hallucinating and that I was only going to get one of our own killed with my recklessness. Hell must have frozen over at Sirius being the rational one. He wanted me to come back here but... I had to see Teddy. I had to check on him and... I had to tell Andromeda first. About all of it."

Sirius was stone sober through the explanation, only nodding along in confirmation of Remus' narrative. When it was clear his friend couldn't offer anymore information, he picked the story back up himself.

"I could feel it. I could feel her die, not physically, I didn't feel pain or anything, but I felt her go. I don't remember anything from the veil beyond feeling her magic putting pressure on me from all sides, similar to the pressure you get when you apparate. It was almost like a stasis, I don't think I even aged. But then I felt her magic fall away and next thing I knew, I was following it, falling right back into that damned death chamber."

Harry could tell that Hermione was quite obviously fascinated but was fighting her curiosity out of vexation. Finally, the intrigue won out.

"But how did you find Remus?"

"Ah, kitten, when have I ever been one to not find a damsel in distress?"

This clearly was not the proper response to offer the excitable witch as evidenced by her horrified expression and the fact she was clearly about to open her mouth to verbally berate him for his insensitive joke. Not in a state to endure her censure, Sirius loudly stopped her before she began.

"AS IT SO HAPPENED, I overheard some ministry workers pissing and moaning about how half of their workforce had up and ran to Hogwarts for the big showdown. I apparated to Hogsmeade but the castle's wards were down so I decided to pop right onto the Astronomy tower. I didn't know the situation so I just started running down stairs and corridors in hopes of finding _you_ , pup, but then I rounded a corner and found Dolohov about to Avada Moony. By the time I convinced him I wasn't an illusion, the Death Eaters were scattering and we could tell it was over."

"Why didn't you stay? Why didn't you find Harry?" Hermione demanded angrily. Harry couldn't help but agree in feeling somewhat abandoned that he hadn't sought him out, but unlike her, he trusted that he'd had reasons against it.

"People were grieving, Hermione. How could I, after coming back to life, intrude on their grief when their loved ones will never have that opportunity." Harry watched as Hermione's face looked like he'd struck her. Then he watched as she turned to look at Remus and her face collapsed in compassion for the man. Sniffling, she wiped angrily at her eyes before responding to Sirius.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I shouldn't have assumed the worst. You may be a _cad_ and a _louse_ , but I know you'd never disappoint Harry if you could help it." Harry rolled his eyes at her piss poor excuse for an apologized but didn't retaliate as he saw a roguish grin creep across his Godfather's face.

"Ouch, kitten. I'm wounded beyond measure. You'll have to make it up to me. Perhaps a kiss to mend my broken heart?"

"Oh Sirius, as if you had a heart to break."

"Well- it's not like you, yourself, have a heart to thaw."

"Are you trying to call me heartless, or cold-hearted?"

"Whichever shoe fits better, love."

 **"How dare you, Sirius Black? You're nothing but a pompous, arrogant, egotistical..."**

"Uh-oh, did the bookworm find a thesaurus to chew?"

 **"... pig-headed arse!"**

"Careful with those claws, kitten, you're going to leave marks... but then again I might like that."

Hermione was so flabberghasted she couldn't respond with anything beyond a shriek of indignation while Harry tried to burrow his head into his hands in embarrassment. That was, at least, until boisterous laughter came thundering through the room. Apparently Remus hadn't been able to neglect his sense of humor any longer than he already had. Harry could tell by the look on his face that, in the wake of the greatest tragedy he'd faced yet, in that moment, he'd accepted he wasn't going to be alone...

And that he was looking forward to more of this- well... _whatever_ it was Hermione and Sirius were doing.

 **Author's Note:**

 _Thank you all again for taking a looksee and following me on this little Sirmione adventure. As promised, here's the flashback for chapter 2... I call it "Chapter 2.5" Hope you have fun reading! Also... I know, I know, I know... Harry's Patronus memory is learning he's a wizard who can do magic, and the sappy "memory" of being surrounded by his loved ones (including the deceased) was the movie version. However, I could work that one into this scene better so I went for it. I will apologize to you Harry Potter purists, if you're reading, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! Much love._

 _Danielle_


	4. What Are We Going To Do?

**Present. The Potters' House, 2005.**

Harry and Remus shared an impish grin after they'd each resurfaced from their bout of nostalgia. Teddy was quickly ushered out of the room by a determined looking Ginny in search of biscuits, dangerously leaving behind the four men, who'd each grown up as trouble makers in their own rights, alone and unsupervised.

"So what are we going to do?" Questioned George, clearly determined that merely being an onlooker to the fight was _not_ a valid option.

"What are we doing about _what_?" Asked a confused Ron, as always just a step behind when it came to observing the situation.

"Oh, Roniekins. How simple you are, little brother." George teased as he patted Ron's head condescendingly. "What are we going to do about Hermione and Sirius, of course."

"Does _anything_ need to be done?" Asked Harry skeptically. "I mean, shouldn't we let them figure it out in their own time?"

"And let them blow up the house with their tempers as they do?" Scoffed Remus.

"I mean, the man has a point," George smirked, clearly loving that he'd roped a former marauder into helping him scheme.

"I just feel like we shouldn't put ourselves in the middle of it, is all. Meddling never goes according to anyone's plan."

"Unless you're Dumbledore." Remus snarked, ammending Harry's previous statement.

Sick of being on the outside of whatever loop everyone was talking about, Ron finally jumped back into the conversation.

"But I still don't get what we will or will not be meddling in?" He whined. "What's the big deal about those two? I mean, yeah, this fight is going to be awesome, but why are we thinking about getting involved?

"You mean, besides the fact that it will end up with them either killing each other or shagging each other?" The remark was uncharacteristically blunt, coming from Remus, but none the less true. "As much as I am repulsed by thinking about it, they are both dear friends to me and therefore I'd selfishly prefer the outcome to be the latter of the two."

Harry found it hilarious to watch as realization made its way into Ron's brain. You could always tell exactly what he was thinking by just watching his face. At that moment it appeared to morph from shock at this new information, to being a hair-matching red with anger (probably at the thought that Sirius might be the reason Hermione had never agreed to date him, let alone kiss him again). From there it calmed into an eye roll and good-humored scoff at how oblivious he'd been and about how obvious he realized Hermione and Sirius had unknowingly been. Finally, his face settled on sickeningly green at the thought of those two actually shagging.

"Great!" Exclaimed George with a weighty clap of his hands. "Now that my slow little brother is all caught up,... I feel the need to repeat myself in asking, 'what are we going to do?'"

Harry had by now realized that any chance they had of this not being a total disaster, was to get on board so he could limit the added destruction that would otherwise come with George plotting solo.

"Well," he decided to contribute, "why don't we start by subtly bringing up the topic during dinner? You know, 'This is delicious. I think I remember Sirius saying Pinky made something similar to this the other day, too. ' Little references until she cracks."

"Tell me again how the sorting hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, pup."

"Merlin, there's no need to be a git, Remus. It could just be late onset marauder genes kicking in."

"No, I don't think so." He chuckled. "James would have just forced them into a room together and warded them in. Subtlety was _definitely_ not part of your father's skill set."

"Wait," Ron interrupted, "Why don't we do that? Just lock 'em away until the... er... tension... is, er, um... gone." He huffed an embarrassed sigh before muttering something that sounded like 'bloody hell' under his breath.

"Because, Roniekins, then we wouldn't be able to get our fill of entertainment." George had an edge of impatience to his voice from having to correct his brother's unconscious attempt at fumbling his attempt to set up a scheme, or test-trial as it would more than likely be. "Besides, my dear fellows, I have a bottle of something freshly brewed from the shop, that might be a little more... effective."

"Oh, come on, George. I'm the first one to admit they need to figure this out, but the last thing I would recommend, or actually permit, would be slipping them a love potion."

"Oi, Remus! Have you no faith in your pranking protégé? I do believe you've lost your imagination in your mature age, ol' Moony!" Exclaimed George with all of the offended theatrics of a 16th-century player. "Besides," he continued, instantly sobering, "I would never slip a love potion to someone like Hermione who is twice as terrifying as all you fine gentleman put together."

He quickly recovered himself before plodding along.

"Nay, good sirs. My brew merely... _suggests_. It's a sort cousin of veritaserum that I developed. One who may or may not have gotten a little naughty with some amortentia in the broom cupboard. It doesn't _force_ you to be honest, and it _definitely_ doesn't force you to feel emotions like a love potion, but it does give you an impulse to be extremely, let us say, _forthright_ , with the person you're already romantically inclined toward."

Somewhat appeased, Remus shrugged his shoulders in consent while Harry took to racking his brain for different options... of which he had none.

"You think we should do it, then?" He finally asked, intentionally prolonging eye contacting with each of his comrades. "You're absolutely certain we should meddle in this?"

"And just what are they absolutely certain they should meddle in?" Asked a voice from the doorway.

"Ah, Hermione! How are you my fair maiden?" George graciously asked her as he brushed a chaste kiss to her fingertips, causing her to roll her eyes at the hyperbolic display of chivalry.

"I'm fine George, or at least as fine as one can be with _him_ here." She nodded toward the front door to where, they all assumed, Sirius must be smoking on the outside stoop. "But don't change the subject. What are you boys scheming, and do I need to set up any protective wards against it?" Her voice was demanding as she narrowed her eyes threateningly at the men in the room. Harry knew she'd been the unintentional victim of one too many Weasley Wizard Wheezes experiments to not be paranoid.

None of them had been prepared for getting caught so they all began sputtering out half-baked and incoherent explanations, none of which coincided with anyone else's stories. Thankfully they were saved by the front door opening and Sirius walking back in. His eyes were wide in disconcertion as all heads in the room were turned to stare at him. He had unknowingly taken the attention off of them, saving them from the hot seat as well as their combined inability to lie, for which Harry was grateful.

"Yes, well..." Hermione managed to say through tight lips, very purposefully turning her head away from Sirius to feign indifference, "I came to get you lot since dinner is done and the rest of the 'family' is already in the dining room."

" **Go!** " Hermione yelled at them when nobody moved. When they were all shaken out of their individual reveries and starting making for the other room, Hermione turned heel and fled to the kitchen in a fit of what, Harry knew, was pent up rage which she hadn't yet allowed herself to unleash at its rightful target.

When she was safely out of view George started snickering into his hand.

"What are you so cheerful about?" Harry asked him, desperate to shake himself from the plague that was the suffocating tension between his best friend and Godfather.

"I was just thinking that this dinner is going to be even better than the one we had to celebrate Hermione getting her job at the ministry."

All four of them froze midstep to look at each other before succumbing to a manic fit of laughter. Harry had somehow forgotten about that particular fight, but now found he couldn't help but relive it.


	5. Impotent and Jobless

**Flashback. Grimmauld Place. 2001.**

Harry flooed home from the ministry early to accommodate a celebratory surprise dinner in honor of Hermione's new job. She'd been working every angle imaginable without pulling the "war hero card," and it had finally paid off. Two years of submitting amendment after bill after statute and she was finally in the position she'd been vying for. Harry knew this was a massive accomplishment, not to mention the first time she was getting recognition for something she had sought after for herself, and he was eager to help force her modest self to revel in her much-earned success.

Harry cast a Tempus charm after stepping out of the floo, grateful he still had an hour to prepare before Hermione was due back herself. He followed clanking sounds to the kitchen and grinned in appreciation as a slew of redheads came into his line of sight. He could tell everyone was almost as excited as he was about her new job, though all for varying reasons.

Mrs. Weasley was the easiest for Harry to sort out, of course, she was merely ecstatic that her pseudo daughter had hit a major milestone and that, hopefully, her days of over exertion were temporarily behind her. Harry sniggered as he could practically hear Mrs. Weasley tutting over his best friend about how tired she looked before shoving a supper plate, piled high, in front of the poor girl. Ginny, he already knew, was just excited to have an excuse to celebrate since she'd been out of touch with everyone but himself and Hermione for quite some time. She'd come to "visit" Grimmauld Place the day of her Hogwarts graduations earlier that year and hadn't left since, must to the chagrin of her mother (to which there had only been an end once there was a certain ring on a certain finger).

George was taking the subject of "Hermione coming into her 'own,' where careers are concerned" to once again entice Ron into joining him at the shop (Harry, Hermione, and Ron had received invitations to test into the Auror academy; Hermione had politely declined in preference of returning to Hogwarts, Ron had actually pushed himself to study for two full weeks before, with much shock to everone, genuinely acknowledging he was less than suited for the field. In the end only Harry had accepted and passed). The man in question was indulging in a Butterbeer or two, claiming it was as much a celebratory dinner for him since he wouldn't have to be subjected to any more of Hermione's preparatory pitches now that she'd signed a contract.

Harry moved to greet and thank everyone for helping out but was cut off by a shock of blue hair streaking across the room before having to catch the three-year-old who'd surged into his unsuspecting arms. Teddy, it was clear, was simply excited to be surrounded by so much... well, _so much_ , period.

"Unca Hay-wee!" Harry chuckled to see the toddler's hair morphing to a black mop atop his head as he struggled, and failed, to match his eyes as well.

"Sorry, Harry, now that he's past his 'terrible twos' he's hit a clingy phase. He's been asking me every day when the family dinner is so he can see his 'Unca Hay-wee.' I think we're going to have to develop a prying charm to remove him from you at the end of the night."

"No worries, Remus, I've been looking forward to seeing him too." He reassured the bashful father before turning back to his Godson who now was removing Harry's glasses and trying them on, tripping him slightly and resulting in him catching the corner of a cupboard with his knee.

"Damn!" He cursed in pain. "Sorry Teddy, but I really do need those to see, kid."

"Damn!" Repeated Teddy, abundantly proud of himself for repeating a new word.

"Yeah, he's at the _that_ stage too, I should have mentioned."

Harry attempted to put on airs of maturity and admonishment while reprimanding the boy for inappropriate language, but his stern visage was rapidly deteriorating over the amusement of the squirming child now deliberately jeering "Damn! Damn! Damn!" repeatedly.

"He really is his mother's son, isn't he?" He finally remarked through gusts of laughter, noticing the bittersweet nature of the father's smile.

"He really is, Harry."

"Where is Sirius, by the way? He does know tonight is the celebration, right?" Harry's inquiry was met by an amused snort from one of the redheads in the room. Looking around he found his fiancé turning to look at him with her arms crossed angrily, yet an exhilarated gleam in her eye, giving her away.

"Oh, Sirius knows, alright. I reminded him not two hours ago as he hopped on his bike and drove off. Mind you, not before mentioning he would, and I quote, "need a little booze and a bird to deal with Miss Priss all night."

Harry was instantly annoyed. Hermione and Sirius had been fighting nonstop and no one could fully understand why they stirred such tumultuous rage in each other. Hermione was fiery, but with a cool and rational head, and Sirius' arrogant humor was light and harmless, but put them in the same room and they detonated into riotous arguments over mundane and inconsequential topics. They fought after she punched him when he'd come back from the veil. They fought when she made the decision to go back to Hogwarts. They fought when Sirius sent Kreacher to Hogwarts instead of freeing the elf. They fought when she took a low-grade, low-paying job at the ministry in hopes of eventually getting the position they were celebrating tonight. And they fought about every other minute triviality that two people who live in the same home can possibly find fight about.

"Why can't he just be nice to her for one goddamn night?"

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" Was the only response. Clearly having forgotten his audience, he looked guiltily at Remus who hung his head but nodded in acceptance.

No one seemed to have an answer to Harry's question even though they'd been trying to understand the volatile relationship of their friends for three years now.

"Hello!" They all heard from the fireplace as they all stared at each other, panicked.

"Harry? Where are you? And why are there so many coats hanging up? Do we have company?"

Hermione came walking interrogatively into the kitchen, jumping in surprise when everyone, in a moment of rare synchronicity, shouted "Surprise!" hoping to salvage their botched plan.

Harry knew it didn't matter a jot that dinner wasn't done or that half their party hadn't arrived yet. She was, in typical Hermione fashion, overwhelmed by how much joy they harnessed from her accomplishment. Wiping happy tears from her eyes she embraced them each, saving Teddy for last and consequently commandeering him until dinner was ready and she had to relinquish him to his highchair. When they finally sat down to eat and toast, Harry simply watched on in delight as he beheld Hermione surrounded by the family they had managed ti build; all the available Weasleys, the Lupins and Andromeda, Neville and Luna, even Headmistress McGonagall and Hagrid, all beaming at her with genuine pride.

Half-way through dinner, the festivities were brought to a jarring halt as a tardy Sirius Black swaggered into the kitchen, only to begin rummaging through the potion cabinet before even addressing them.

"Sirius! You made it! I'd almost given up hope." Harry was doing his best to break the awkward tension that had fallen over the room.

"Yes. And what a shame that would have been." Came a not so quiet mutter from Harry's left as Hermione started hotly stabbing at her meal.

"Something you'd like to say there, kitten?"

"Oh, I only meant to thank you for coming..." Sirius, who was obviously not in full control of his faculties, grinned over at his house-mate and winked, entirely oblivious to the silent 'but' that everyone knew was hanging in the air.

"I mean, who else could we depend upon to bring the smell of a pub. And truly, how could one possibly celebrate their _professional_ triumphs without the stench- oh, pardon me, _aroma_ of liquor by the trough?"

Harry sharply exhaled, caught between agreeing with Hermione on his Godfather's current behavior, and hoping against all odds that she'd drop the issue and avoid the fight.

"Ah, kitten. Put that silver tongue away for a minute. I need to find a sober-up potion in order to understand any of what you're saying, and it would be rude to make you repeat yourself in seducing me."

In her defense, Hermione didn't respond save for the narrowing of her eyes and the rather noticeable wave of tension that came over her body. She had improved immensely in not immediately rising to the man's blatant attempts to rile her up and, for that, Harry was both impressed and grateful.

"Seducing you?" She questioned him as he found the potion he was looking with a triumphant 'aha!' and washed it down with a Butterbeer to clear his head.

"When you'll have any and every woman, why would I need to put effort into a seduction?"

Sirius smirked at her, clearly determined to dismantle the calm and indifferent veneer she was clutching so hard to.

"Because you'd have to first convince me that you are just that- a woman. And I have yet to see much evidence to persuade me."

Groans sounded from around the table as the party knew that Sirius had just thrown down the proverbial gauntlet. Harry had his eyes squinted shut in preparation for the atomic explosion that was sure to be Hermione's kickback. When it stayed eerily quiet, he cautiously opened one eye to check they hadn't silently Avada'd each other. His first sight was of Sirius, his eyes brazenly darkened with mischief... and a little something extra. It wasn't until a slight flashing began infringing on his peripherals that he craned his neck to watch Hermione.

"What" _Spark._ "did you" _Spark._ "just" _Spark._ "insinuate?" _Spark, spark._

"Nothing of consequence, kitten. I merely let you know that your feminine wiles were... impotent."

"Oh, I'll show _you_ impotent... I reckon I don't need to educate you much as you probably see it's definition on the daily every time you look down. It's no wonder you go through so many women seeing as none of them would be willing to have you a twice."

George and Ginny couldn't contain their mirth any longer, as they'd never heard such a crude remark come out of the [somewhat] prudish Hermione Granger. Even the Headmistress hid her amusement behind her napkin politely. She'd watched the boy womanize most of the female population at Hogwarts in his day, none of which had emasculated him so effortlessly.

"Well, well, well. Look who brought her paws out to play." Hermione's degradation had only seemed to propel them into more and more spiteful territory. "It's a good thing you're going into Regulation of Magical Creatures since you'll have such first-hand knowledge. Tell me, did you get your shots before taking the job? Wouldn't want the department catching something from the _Harpy_."

"Oh, so you do remember that I got a new job. Here I thought it was just my _Harpy_ brain all befuddled, and had forgotten to tell you."

"Of course I remember, the _harpy_ has been very appropriately _harping_ about that ridiculous job for the past two years. Forgive me for needing to go for some little 'liquid courage' in order to face your horrific false modesty over getting the stupid thing."

"I'll have you know it is a _great_ job, Sirius Black. But I understand how to someone who doesn't work, you might not be able to recognize it." She had by now thrown down her fork and kicked back her chair in order to yell at him with a little more authority. "And I am _not_ faking modesty!"

"Godric, woman! _I do have a job_ , thank you very much." Sirius was tired of that being thrown in his face, even if he did prize and instigatethese fights. "And _yes_ , kitten, you _are_!"

"I'm 'sorry,' I forgot all about your job of sitting around a courtroom with other rich purebloods making political decisions that support of your financial investments, my apologies... way to contribute to society, Sirius." They'd both struck a chord with the eachother which meant their patience was plummetting and their snark was recklessly escalating.

"And I will have you know that the job came down to me and one other person, I only had a 50% chance of getting it, _so cut it out with the false modesty bit_!"

"Because _that's_ what I do on the Wizengamot, right? 'Further my own investments?"

"Yes!" Harry grasped the table hard to stabalize himself as she pushed around his shoulders, propelling herself toward the accused.

"You _really_ believe that, don't you?" He took a step toward her, cutting off her path of assult, as her assumptions stirred a very real anger in him.

"Yes!" She screamed in his face, her chest heaving in inch from his and face brightly flushed in unadaulterated rage.

"Well I'm glad we got _that_ cleared up, then. Next time I'm asked to consult on your department's employee appointment, I'll be sure to remember just what a disgrace to the community I am and keep my trap shut!"

"You go right ahead and do th- wait, _what_?" Hermione stumbled backward, clutching at her collar in a frenzy of confusion and anxiety.

"Ohhh... didn't know I was the consultant on that one, did you, kitten?" He was still taking an occasional step toward her, taking advantage of her momentary insecurity to assert dominance into his position.

"No. No way. I got that job on my own merit." Another step back.

"Of course you did." Another step forward. "But with your age, not to mention your overindulgent zeal, no one was taking your application seriously."

Hermione's back was now flush with the wall which impeded her escape from furious man stalking her like prey.

"That's not true. I was the only applicant properly qualified for the position! I would have been considered without your meddling."

"I'm sure you would have, kitten. Just as soon as they fished your file out of the rejection pile."

"But... but... but..." Panic had obviously driven all coherence to retirement and discomfort at being in such close proximity to Sirius was reading as a pinking glow to her neck and ears.

"If that's all you can say, I think we've targeted the issue."

"But the other main candidate kept flinching when the werewolf liaison was there during the interviews! He couldn't even shake his hand! They would never have given him the job!"

"And there's no possible way I could have been the one to send Moony up there, is there?" Sirius was taunting her as he leaned his hands onto the wall behind her, effectively caging her in, so he could level his eyes with hers and watch the effect those words had made on her ego.

"No!" She finally screeched as she pushed hard at his chest, setting him back a few paces.

"I refuse. _I_ was the one who was more qualified for that job!" She awarded him another shove. " _I_ was the one who spent two years outlining new laws and decrees and amendments!" Hermione was officially on the offensive and was pressing him backward with every exlaimation.

" _I_ was the one who deserved it!" Push. "That job was _mine_!" Shove. "I got it on my own, _without_ your 'help,' because it was _always rightfully mine!_ " And with a final, forceful attack of her hands against his chest, Sirius bumped himself into the kitchen counter with knees that buckled slightly at the unexpected impact.

"Good to know that modesty is still working out for you, kitten."

Harry watched the angry flush drain from her face at the realization that she'd been caught red-handed boasting. Then, just as quickly as it had left her, it came back two-fold.

"Sirius. Black." She enunciated in a terrifyingly even tone. "Am I to understand that you purposefully undermined my chance to celebrate two years of hard work paying off, so that _you_ could prove yourself right on a petty 'he said, she said?'"

Sirius beamed in utter self-satisfaction as he took in every inch of her appearance, relishing in her palpable anger and her crackling magic.

"Listen here, Mr. Black." Sirius winced slightly that address, it was the name he specifically told her _not_ to use when she came to stay at Grimmauld Place for the first time all those years ago.

"You will not talk to me anymore, you will not interact with me anymore, you will not be associated with me in any way, shape, or form."

Harry cringed at the current scene. Partially because, though her tone was deceptively cool, her magic was additionally manifesting in cracking dishes and a sharp, indoor breeze. But also, because the last time she had made this speech it had taken three full weeks for her to acknowledge his Godfather.

"You will make your own tea in the morning, you will not take the morning paper until _after_ I have read it, you will _not_ join me for meals, and I fully expect you to avoid the library at all possible costs." At this point Harry was mouthing the words along with her, having heard this speech on more than one occasion.

"You disgust me." She added, a new addition to the tirade, and promptly turned heel and marched up to her room.

Sirius watched her leave the room, a devious grin (with a splash of a grimace) on his face, before walking to the table where he wordlessly took over Hermione's chair and began piling food onto an empty place.

"Was that really really necessary?" Harry demanded reproachfully, annoyed that his hard work of organizing the dinner had spectacularly blown up in his face due totheir fight.

"Necessary? No. Savored? Sweet Circe, yes." And with that, the man tucked into his food as if nothing more had occured than asking for the time.

"The question isn't if it was necessary, Harry, it's if it was worth it." Remus shot a calculating look at Sirius, obviously waiting for an answer.

"Did you see her magic, Remus? Of course, it was worth it. That woman is far too much fun to rile up. In fact, I think she should always be angry."

"With you around I don't see that being too much of ab issue." Ginny bantered.

"I thought you said she wasn't a woman." Demanded Ron, confused.

"He only mentioned she'd have to convince him, Ron." All eyes shot to Luna who had stayed impassive throughout the entire confrontation. Harry sat back and watched as everyone interpreted that statement in their various ways, only making eye contact with Remus, who appeared to be on the same page, as they each quirked a brow.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the way the blonde's statement hung in the air, Sirius deflected by trying to tease Remus.

"So, Moony, terrify any more ministry workers since I saw you last?" Unfortunately for him, that particular statement had been, unintentionally, even _more_ telling on Sirius' behalf, as silverware clanked down to the plates around the table.

"So it's true, then." Ginny pressed, her eyes bulging out of her head at the thought that she'd just received a juicy piece of gossip... or leverage.

Sirius, in return simply shrugged and pulled out his wand to summon a decanter from the other room.

"I thought this was a celebration of some sort. Why are we not drinking Firewhiskey?"

Harry wasn't sure whether to hug his Godfather or strangle him, so he did the next best thing, he brought up quidditch and hoped against all odds that Teddy didn't learn any more new words.

A few hours the guests had gone and Harry trudged up the stairs with every intention of sleeping off the disastrous dinner. As he passed Hermione's still warded door, he caught sight of a tray of food, clearly under a stasis, a bottle of her favorite elf wine, and a golden plaque reading;

Hermione J. Granger

Under Secretary

D.O.R.M.C.

Harry merely chuckled at Sirius' antics, realizing this was more than likely the reason for his tardiness at dinner, and continued on to bed, content in knowing they'd figure out this mess someday.

 **Author's Note:**

 _My lovelies! I'm so sorry it took almost a full week for an update. I try to update on Mondays and Wednessday (because that's when I have most access to a computer), but this past Monday I just couldn't find the inspiration. No excuses, I know, just wanted to let you guys know that I did NOT forget about you. I am so grateful for you guys who are sticking with this story. You guys are the BEST ever._

 _Lots of Love,_

 _Danielle_


	6. Get Outside Now

**Present. Potter Residence. 2005.**

Harry, Remus, Ron and George all stumbled into the dining room with slightly stupid grins on their faces. Harry scoffed at the impish smile she threw him. That face only had one meaning; she knew... how is it she knows everything. He slid into the chair she'd left beside her as he felt a whisper against his ear.

"Do you boys have a plan?"

"I believe so, it's a little half-baked, but we almost got caught so we don't have much of a choice anymore." Ginny drew back and eyed him somewhat cautiously.

"Do you need any help? Or better yet, do you need an alibi?"

Their tête-à-tête was cut short, however, by a huffing Sirius who had set himself quite heavily on Harry's other side.

"Harry, my boy, why is my favorite Godson not joining us?" His attention was drawn to the man next to him as he gasped in mock indignation, acting every bit the wounded brother.

"I'm hurt, Sirius. I'm glad you're taking Godfathering seriously- NO. Do not even try- but I never intended for you to replace me. I'm going to have to duel my own son for attention!"

"Don't worry, pup, you're irreplaceable! You're just more of a 'collectible' now that I've upgraded to the newer model."

Harry only grinned at the jibe, knowing he'd be offered his chance at retribution for that remark later that evening... _collectible_ his arse.

"The kids are having dinner upstairs tonight seeing as we don't want civilian casualties."

Sirius merely quirked a brow, fully aware of what Harry anticipated happening and fully prepared give him just that.

Scuffling from the kitchen drew them away from their banter as Hermione made her way into the room, shuffling slightly under the weight of the rack of lamb shank. Once she and Molly (who'd accepted Hermione's request to learn how to cook more than toast) had finished setting their little feast on the table, Hermione rested into her seat. To Harry's private relief, he noticed her seat was directly opposite Sirius. At least there would be a physical barrier between them.

The tension was uncuttable as all the dinner guests surveyed the two local hotheads. It wasn't until Molly announced for them to "Dig in!" that the clanking of silverware and pouring of drinks began and small talk started making its way around the magically enlarged table.

The four plotting men, however, shared a look amongst them, silently agreeing that the meal was too good to waste and they really ought to wait until dessert to launch phase one.

As the pie was being cut, george threw an apprehensive look at Harry, Remus and Ron before clearing his throat.

"Sirius, I heard you have some new help around Grimmauld Place."

A loud clattering resounded through the room as Hermione dropped the knife she was using, although she didn't show any other outward signs that she'd even heard George's comment, let alone acknowledge it.

"Ah, yes," Sirius replied tentatively, clearly not anticipating being catapulted into the impending row by a third party. "Yes, I have. Peppy little thing, too. "

"There are only two of you still living there, is there even enough work to constitute needing a house elf?" Asked Remus, honestly curious as to how Sirius was going to climb his way out of that one.

"Well, not really." Sirius jumped as a perturbed Hermione dropped a plate of pie in front of him as loudly and rudely, conveying her distaste as loudly as possible while refusing to speak.

"She was very upset with me about that at first. I had to actually invent things for her to do."

Hermione was trying desperately to maintain her silence but couldn't squelch the horrified gasp that escaped her.

It was Harry's turn to clear his throat and follow through on his original suggestion.

"Well, I don't know about all _that_ , but _this_ is really good 'Mione." Harry simpered as he pointed to his slice of pie. "You've really gotten so much better since you first started learning from Molly." Hermione's shoulders visibly sagged with relief as she beamed at him. It _almost_ gutted him knowing all he'd done is set her up for a takedown. _Almost_... but not quite.

"You know, it actually reminds me a lot of what Pinky made the other day when I stopped by to see Sirius. Really good, too. I bet you make it a similar way."

Hermione, who had been throttling the pie pan, probably blissfully fantasizing about it being Sirius' neck, yelped when it exploded with the assistance of her anger fueled magic.

" _GetoutsiderightnoworsohelpmeIwillwringyourneckwiththathairyoursofondofbeforefeedingyourcorpsetoRemusnextfullmoon_..."

She was muttering so fast and so deadly low that Harry could only pick up every few words, but it was enough to deduce that she was threatening someone in the room and was terrified he a had a 50% chance of it being him.

"'Mione, you need to slow down, I can't understand a thing you're saying."

She glared at him menacingly before snapping her eyes hard shut and balling up her fists until her knuckles went white. She proceeded to enunciate every word and _Merlin_ was that all the more startling.

" **Get**. **Out**. **Side**. **Now**."

Harry swallowed but nodded before squeezing his wife's hand in a final goodbye and slowly beginning to rise. Suddenly, Hermione's eyes shot open.

"Not _you_... _you_ sit back down." Harry practically fell the short distance to his seat in relief.

"I mean _him_." She enunciated. " **Sirius Black**. **Outside**. **Now**."

Sirius was not nearly as afraid of the little witch as his Godson. Whereas Harry had resigned himself to getting hexed six was to Sunday, he simply rolled his pushed his chair back before swaggering in a blasé manner toward the front door.

Hermione's eyes tracked him until he was out of view and narrowed them after him. Then, with a dramatically flicking her wild mane over her shoulder, she was gone.

George was the one to break the silence as he rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.

"Want to place bets, anyone?"

"What is happening here?" Demanded Mrs. Weasley as she moved to ressurrect the pie dish who'd suffered at the hands of her crazed, speudo daughter.

"You were right, Harry." Conceded Remus, resignedly. "It was definitely different this time. Also, I hope you know you'll still be getting that hexing from Hermione over your recipe comments when she gets to it. That little tactic was borderline cruel."

"I am still waiting for an answer!" Hissed the older Weasley matron.

"Oh, calm down Mother. We'll explain it all, just give us a chance."

Minutes later and the full party was nearly up to date on the plan when a pattering of footsteps rambled downstairs.

"Ugh! I _knew_ they were going to fight again."

Remus chuckled as he followed the sound of his son's voice to a window overlooking the front yard, giving a 'lovely' view of the two adults who, at present, were arguing very animatedly.

"Don't worry Teddy, remember what Uncle Harry told you, this might be the last for a while."

"I guess. I still don't understand why he said that."

"It's just different this time, is all."

"Well, they _are_ fighting outside this time. Normally they'd just shout at each other in the living room. Is _that_ all Uncle Harry meant?"

"Well, that's a part of it, kid." Came Harry's answer as he walked over to them. "Why do you think that is?" The question came from his Auror training that required him to thoroughly dissect the scenes around him. In the past few years, however, these types of questions had become a game of sorts between Godfather and Godson. Teddy had even become so involved that he'd begun questioning baby James, who at the age of two, answered with little more than 'bwue!' while reaching to tug on Teddy's hair.

"I think it means they want to be alone?" Harry smirked at the answer. It was so telling that even an eight-year-old could pick up the unspoken sentiments surrounding Hermione and Sirius' strange relationship.

"Uncle Harry? Why doesn't Uncle Sirius have a girlfriend? I mean, I hear Aunt Ginny talk about dressing Aunt 'Mione up for a date sometimes... Does uncle Sirius go on dates too? Do they go on dates _together_?"

Ginny's laughter came ringing from the doorway as she walked over to get a look at the scene playing out outside. No one knew what to say so they just let Teddy's question hang in the air.

One by one, the rest of the party started trickling into the living room to cram around the too small of a window to watch the drama unfold. Even Molly, after a great deal of chastising them all for being nosy and intrusive, was caught stealing glances toward the window when she wasn't pretending to knit on the sofa.

Teddy's question kept looping over and over in Harry's mind. 'Why doesn't Uncle Sirius have a Girlfriend?' It had been so obvious for so long, and they had all been so... thick, for most of it. It had been an argument over one of Hermione's dates two years back that had illuminated Harry to the idea that Hermione and Sirius might not actually hate each other as much as they expressed.

 **Author's Note:**

 _Thank you again for continuing this with me. Feel free to ask questions or would like to voice your opinions. Feedback is always appreciated and I love you all lots and want to do my best by you!_

 _Lots of Love,_

 _Danielle_


	7. Shut Up, James!

**Flashback. 2002. Grimmauld Place.**

It had been too long since Harry had been over to visit at Grimmauld Place. He was thrilled beyond measure to have settled into the privacy of a secluded cottage with his, now, wife; however, he missed the camaraderie of living with his 'family.' He also felt a guilty pang niggling at the recess of his mind that came with stranding his pseudo sister with his Godfather, then proceeding to not check up more frequently than he had, to verify they were both alive and not in Azkaban for one another's murder.

His last thought sent a shuddering cold over his entire being as he finally registered just how eerily quiet it was for this late on a Sunday morning. Harry and Hermione's presence was still, after four plus years of adulthood, demanded and expected at the Burrow for lunch. On any given Sunday Hermione would customarily be emphatically (and loudly) impressing unsolicited advice upon Sirius about his wayward and capricious life, only to be met by his hungover Godfather bemoaning her persistent twaddle on what was intended to be the day of rest- "And isn't the day of rest a Muggle thing? Why the Hell don't you understand that concept, Witch?" From there it would ritually diverge toward a tactical skirmish as they began attacking each others' weaknesses. Hermione would start cleaning out the liquor cabinet, provoking Sirius' brand of retribution which included dropping her books heavily to the floor one by one... spine up. There was never a winner, these conflicts only ever ended when Harry was forced to drag Hermione through the floo. Every. Week.

 _Until today._

Today Grimmauld place was so void of the normally frenzied and biting repartee that it felt as if a colassal Silencio blanketed his former home. He nervously crept up the stairs to check Hermione's bedroom, finding it empty with the bed unmussed. Harry felt his chest being steeped in the all too familiar contradiction that was the icy heat of paranoid apprehension. Silencing his feet, he slunk back down to the family room, wand drawn in anticipation of a confrontation.

"Are you going to join me for a drink, or are you going to lurk a little longer?"

Harry's nerves peaked at the sudden voice but hastily calmed upon recognizing it.

"A little early to start drinking, isn't it? Or haven't you stopped from last night?"

He was met with nothing more than an unintelligible "Mmmph."

Concern settled upon Harry. The man with quips enough to fill the pages of even Hermione's book collection was rendered reticent. Something was severely wrong, indeed, to imbue a notoriously reckless Marauder with such a lackluster condition. Harry braced himself for playing therapist and took a seat opposite Sirius as he slipped into a persona more apt to remind the man of 'Prongs.' It was a trick he'd developed over the years to coax the emotional side out of his Godfather, as he was averse to displaying those weaknesses to any but his brothers, even Harry.

"Padfoot... What happened last night?" He asked, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him and leaning back onto his crossed arms behind his head.

"This time of day I'm more likely to catch you with a sober up potion, not Ogden's."

"No drinking last night... drinking this morning."

"Did the lady of the house lay into you again about bringing some bird home? Where is she, by the way?"

"Not here."

"Yeah. I kind of gauged that. And stop ignoring my questions, Padfoot."

"Anthony Goldstein is the cause of my distress this fine day, Prongslet." Sirius announced in a voice full of false gentility.

"Goldstein as in 'Ravenclaw who graduated with Hermione,' Goldstein?"

"The one and, as he'd like to think, the only."

"I'd like to commiserate with you over whatever the Hell is going on, but you need to give me more than 'Goldstein.' Is this your way of coming out? I mean, that's totally fine if you are, besides we all have bets going and I-"

"What?! I'm miffed because that gormless idiot kept Hermione out all night, not because I'm bent. And what do you mean you all have bets going? Just because I don't much enjoy seeing the same woman twice, doesn't mean I'm overcompensating for a lack of attraction to them! Who thinks I'm gay? I bet it's Moony. It's Moony, isn't it? Stupid Werewolf with his stupid-"

"I'm taking the piss, Padfoot! Godric. Thought that through, though, have you?"

"Cor! That was some Grade-A Lily-esque emotional manipulation, right there, Pronglet. Who knew you had it in you. She may have been straight Gryffindor, but she was also best friends with Severus Snape. The woman knew how to get what she wanted."

"Don't try to change the subject, Padfoot."

On any other day he'd be anxious to hear more tales about his parents, especially when they were being given so freely. However, Harry knew it was information that was supposed to be used against him in this situation, a stalling tactic, and he'd been in the D.M.L.E. long enough to resist his urges and keep Sirius on track.

"So she was with Goldstein last night?"

"Oh yeah... that.

"'Oh yeah... that,' alright."

"Come on Harry. The git, who mind you is a total ponce, just swaggers up to the front door and demands to see her. She comes down and giggles when he kisses her hand. She bloody giggled, Harry. Hermione bloody Granger _giggled_!"

"So... you're mad because she had a date? Or because she might actually _like_ someone?"

"Both! Neither! Ugh! You're not getting it."

Harry's eyes were quickly roaming over Sirius' appearance. He hadn't seen him this disheveled and obviously distressed since the end of the war. Never had he before humored the notion that Hermione and Sirius strange chemistry could be taken to mean anything other than the 'cat and dog' relationship they had. But with the way his Godfather was acting in that moment, with all the Black possessiveness and lack of restraint rising to the surface, there was definitely something going on and he was irate with himself for ignorantly dismissing the signs. He was unsure as to whether he ought to be skeptical or hopeful, but he was most certainly curious.

"Just explain it to me, Sirius, what am I not 'getting?'"

"I'm mad at her for changing herself around him. She was acting like some two-knut strumpet with barely as many brain cells to rub together, and then she stayed out and she never came home!"

"Firstly; Strumpet? Really? And Secondly; Oh please, _please_ , tell me you didn't tell her that."

"Well- not exactly that. I may have actually elaborated on the issue a bit more... I may also have made some not-so-gentile comments involving an aggressive female dog and their mating habbits."

Harry felt his stomach drop out from his middle. He'd have to deal with an emotionally distressed and soon-to-be-drunken Godfather, _and_ a hyper-emotional and scorned best friend. His mind was vacillating between comforting the dejected man in front of him, and hexing his moody arse until he couldn't sit.

"Oh, what have you done, Padfoot. I love you, you know this, but this has got to stop. Hermione is a grown woman. I know you mean well and want what's best for her, we all do, but whenever you try and give her advice it turns and bites you in the back. Usually because you deliver it by picking a fight with her. You need to let her live her own life."

"You think I don't know that? It's just- Goldstein, Corner, that Zabini kid especially..."

They both shared a huff and an eye roll at that last mention.

"They're all the same. They all think that, just because she agreed to a date with them, they're something special. But they're not. They're all just stuffed shirts with mediocre I.Q.'s who can't hold a candle to her because they're not even worthy of the match to light it with. They're not good enough for her."

He was watching Sirius struggle through so many emotions while staunchly refusing to own up to or admit them. Rapidly, he flipped through his memories of the way the two had interacted with each other since Sirius' return. He recalled the fights and the times Hermione had stormed out of the room from him, but he also recollected the memories of their teasing banter that made his sister smile on a particularly bad day, and the way her smile practically split her face every time she stared at the simple little plaque she'd found outside her door one night, which now sat proudly on her desk at the Ministry. Harry began to reexamine it all and realized quite quickly that he found a sense of peace in the thought of their potential relationship.

"So- You think you're good enough for her, then?"

"Noone's good enough for her."

"Do you want to be good enough for her?"

"I never said that."

"You also never said that you're in love with her, but you didn't need to, did you?"

"Woah, Woah, Woah. Reign in the imaginative romanticism there, pup."

Harry was grinning deviously at the man's ardent denial. It was so easy to see through now that he'd unearthed the truth.

"If you say so... You know you could do much worse than her, Sirius. She's loyal."

"She's vindictive."

"True, but you like that side of her. Besides, it holds your attention. She's intelligent."

"Bookish and swotty, you mean. And she's a Goodie Two-Shoes."

"Maybe, but she'll use what she learns to break the rules if you give her a good enough reason."

"But reprimands, no, _nags_ you the rest of the time."

"She's independent."

"Can't even open a door for that woman, let alone buy her dinner."

"She would never want you for your wealth."

"Because she has the same taste as her grandmother."

"She's beautiful."

"So bloody beautiful."

 _Bingo._

"Told you so.

"Told me what?"

"You fancy her."

"Do not."

"Why are you so determined to not be happy? Why are you lying to yourself about your feelings? Why are you in such denial about-"

 **"SHUT UP, JAMES!"**

Harry's breath hitched at being referred to by his father's name. Very rarely had Sirius made such a faux pas. The incident occurred more frequently when they had first been reunited. Sirius' brain was still recovering from the madness looming over him from Azkaban, and he was more prone to slip up. In the years since the war, though, he had only blundered in times of great emotional distress; more often than not he did so during his and Remus' drunken reminiscing on Hallows' Eve.

This time, Harry had caught him in his lie, and they both were wholly aware.

Sirius hung his head, cradling it between is hands, elbows propped on his knees.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Your father was habitually the person to yell at me about pulling my head out. I guess I'm just a bit mixed up."

"No, you're just a wanker."

Sirius looked up at Harry, frightened. That is until he saw the smirk on his face, then he huffed an embarrassed laugh. Harry had, in his own way, accepted Sirius as more than just his Godfather. He had given him permission his best friend, his sister. Harry laughed to himself, thinking about how incestuous that sounded and was quite certain he'd be able to use that against the man at some point.

The moment was interrupted when the fire roared to life, giving way to Ginny as she poked her head through in a floo call.

"Harry, are you there? Oh hey! Are you coming over soon?"

"Yeah, Gin, I'll be right there."

"Okay, then. Oh, you know not to bring Hermione, right?"

Both men snapped their heads up with brows tightly furrowed, momentarily causing a state of confusion in the new Mrs. Potter before she realized they had no idea the whereabouts of their friend.

"Well, that explains what was taking you so long. Sorry, I assumed she'd owled. Apparently, her date last night sucked but she didn't want to go home. Said she needed a change of scenery. She stayed overnight at the Burrow, so she's already here."

"Thanks, Gin, I'll floo over in a second."

When she was gone, Harry turned his attention back to Sirius who, he'd noticed, had turned limp-limbed in satisfying relief. He felt terribly for the man. He could sympathize all too well with what he was feeling; the forbidden admiration, feeling unworthy of their affection, and especially the guilt of wanting that person to love you against odds and fate. Harry had felt all of those back in the sixth year with Ginny. It had been miserable, and he hadn't even had to factor in a shocking age gap or tentative sanity.

"Go take a shower and sleep it off, Pads. I'll make sure she comes home tonight."

"Thank you, Harry."

And with that, he was throwing the powder into the fire and calling out 'The Burrow,' all the while resolute in his determination to help his Godfather and best friend get over themselves and admit their feelings for each other. And then it hit him like a bludger... How the Hell was he supposed to get the two most infamously and passionately stubborn people he knew to stop being, well, stubborn?

He was buggered.


	8. What Did Sirius Say Now?

**Present. Potter Residence. 2005.**

Harry watched on in amusement as Hermione and Sirius' arms flailed around in impassioned physical communication, all the while being utterly deaf to even a lick of their verbal confrontation. He felt as if he were watching a silent film without the lines of text, and with all the subtlety of the three stooges... or maybe just Ron. He pulled a pouting Teddy close into his side as he looked about at the family he was surrounded by. Many a time through the last seven years he'd found himself deep in this same line of contemplative thoughts, asking himself, _how did I get here_?

After the war, Harry had felt inexplicably isolated. Yet, he was fished from his mind's depressive abyss by a sister, then a Godson, a fiancé, who thereafter was immediately followed by a tribe of in-laws and, surprisingly, children. These extraordinary souls he stood amongst had been his salvation, and the woman outside belligerently raving had been the catalyst for such deliverance. He had only ever wished throughout these years that she would share in such sweet serendipity. However, there he was watching her, from the thick of his congregated acquired-family, watching that same woman as she fought against the cusp that would ultimately tumble her toward her own kismet.

Harry couldn't wait to watch her fall.

Looking back out onto the front yard, he turned his head just in time to watch Hermione's face drop in astounded disconcert. Harry heaved a sigh of unmitigated frustration. Just when he had believed those two had finally arrived at the brink of an amorous convergence; the sort which would give host to the same, tender manner of connection they'd fostered in St. Mungo's when they'd met their Godson.

 _What had Sirius said now?_

 **Author's Note:**

 _I know, I know, I know... it's a short one. I even took an extra couple of days to contemplate how I could give a little more content to you guys, but there was just no way around this being a transition chapter. Don't fret, though, a meaty flashback is coming up in the next chapter, so please be patient with me. Also, WOW! This story hit 100 followers the other day and I could not be more humbled. I'm so grateful to all of you sharing this journey with me._

 _Kisses,_

 _Danielle_

 _P.S._

 _If you're looking for a new Sirmione to check out, Chapter 1 of Miscalculations is up and out for you, readers. I hope you enjoy it :)_


	9. This Was Good This Was Life

**Flashback. St. Mungo's Hospital. 2003.**

Harry was sat beside his wife's cot, watching as she placidly slept with an equally peacefully slumbering James on her breast. He drank in the sight before him, certain that nothing in his life could have possibly prepared him for the onslaught of emotions this moment would award, and the astonished disbelief he felt that it was actually his. The term 'surreal' would have pushed the bounds of even British understatement. Surely, if not for the lingering bruising sensation in his right hand where Ginny had strangled the extremity during her labor, he'd be in harsh disbelief as to the reality of this waking dream.

He watched with fascination as James, his son, scrunched up his face in the beginning stages of distress. Though he hated to wake his wife from her much needed and more than deserved sleep, he wasn't going to be of much use to a hungry newborn if he didn't. After gently stirring her, he tenderly gathered the discontented infant into his arms while she re-adjusted herself. His wife's beauty overwhelmed on the daily, but as he saw her then with tangled hair, exhaustion bruised onto the lower lining of her eyes yet contrasted with the most exquisite look of unbridled love on her face as she nursed their child; he knew every memory of her beauty previous to that second paled drastically to her allure in that moment.

"Should we call them in to ask them?" Ginny asked her husband sleepily as she nestled the baby closer to her.

"In a little bit. You get a little more rest, love."

"M'fine. Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes, love?"

"Is this a ploy to get those to stop being idiots?"

"Whatever do you mean, oh 'heart of my heart?'" He in inquired with a winsome smile. "Hermione's my sister, who else would I even consider asking to be Godmother."

"And Sirius? You know, he already has a Godson in case you misplaced that memo somewhere in that hair of yours, and I'm not exactly giving him an 'Olimic 10.'"

"It's 'Olympic,' Gin- and what's this about my hair? I'll have you know it took a full 20 hours of reminding my darling wife to 'Breath! Breath!' and another 10 of making sure my son was _also_ breathing every other minute, to achieve this look!"

"Har, Har. You know, you're lucky said son is keeping me from smacking you upside the head, Potter."

The mention of the boy returned both their attention back to the little baby, each equally consumed by their love and devotion for the infant.

"Gin?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I don't think there are two people alive who will adore and dote on that baby boy right there as much as Hermione and Sirius will- except for us, of course. I know you're Mum will make that a tough race, but I think it's different than the way they'll love him."

"I know. I just wanted to be certain you were sure. Do you think it will help them?"

"I have no idea, to be perfectly frank." James had finished eating and was swiftly succumbing to his drooping eyelids. Harry scooped him up into a cradle adding, "more miraculous things have happened," as he threw an appreciative smile toward his wife.

"Gin?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I really want this to work for them." There it was, the admission he hadn't yet made aloud. It felt entirely wrong to matchmake the two pieces of his family together. However, watching them since Sirius' 'dark day' the previous year had only confirmed how suitable they were in the most twisted way.

"I know, love. I hope so too. They both deserve to be happy and to be loved the way that _you_ are, the way that _I_ am. I want them to have... _this_." She finished as she pointedly looked between her husband and son.

"Gin?"

"Yes, Harry?" Her eyes were closed and her breath was beginning to even out as sleep began to subconsciously overtake her.

"You know you're incredible, right?"

"Of course I know." She teased with a smart smirk on her drifting face. "I birthed a child today, just call me Wonder Girl."

"Wonder Woman, Gin, and yes, yes you are."

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yes, Gin?"

"Shut up." Her teasing leaugh was evened by the steady breaths of her impending sleep. "And go fix your hair! We'll talk to them when James wakes up next."

And with that, his ever-quipping wife was blissfully unaware of the world around her. Harry chuckled as he placed his son in the bassinet and rolled it closer to the boy's mother before following through on Ginny's directions. He knew from nine months of experience to never disobey a pregnant woman's commands, but he'd learned in just over 10 hours to never, ever disobey those of a new mother.

Harry was returning to Ginny's room after showering when he heard a pair of all too familiar voices bickering from hallway directly in front of the door.

"I still don't understand why you followed me down here, Sirius. There's no reason for you to be here."

"I could ask you the same thing, kitten. It's obvious why _I'm_ here, seeing as _I'm_ here to meet my Godson, but as to why _you_ followed _me_ down here, I haven't the foggiest."

"Of course, _you're_ Godson." Hermione scoffed sarcastically as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, annoyed at his intrusive presence. "There's no end to the list of people I could name who'd be deemed more aptly suited to be Godfather, starting with Gilderoy Lockhart in the next wing over."

"That's quite the tongue you're wielding today, love. Something tells me it's been sharpened by jealousy. Are you starting to feel nervous about my being a shoe in for Godparentage over your priggish self?"

"Less jealous and more determined to protect little James from your _prick_ -ish self, you know, being a shoe in for Godparentage and all... and Godparentage is not even a word, Sirius!"

Harry could only snicker at the depth of ironic hilarity he was witnessing in the scene played out before him, the sound of his laughter pulling the attention of the two now blushingly embarrassed arguers.

"And may I ask what gave you the idea that one, or either, of you would be a Godparent?"

After straightening his face at them with quirked eyebrows, provoking them to hem and haw to his vast amusement. Finally taking pitty on them he grinned, asking if they'd like to meet their Godson.

Sirius and Hermione only turned to look at each other skeptically, trying to decipher who the 'your' meant in his question.

"Good Godric, you're both more childish than your Godson and he's not even a day old!" Seeing their unchanging expressions he added on a clarifying " _both of your_ Godson," rolling his eyes.

That was enough to appease the bickering "adults" as they instantly beamed radiantly up at Harry and dutifully followed him through the door.

As they entered the room they immediately saw Ginny, already awake and with the baby barely awake in her arms. Hermione's hand immediately flung to her mouth in the wake of that an emotionally charged moment; the moment she fell irrevocably in love as she laid eyes on the tiny infant, and the simultaneous moment she realized her brother finally received everything he'd always desperately desired and fought for. Sirius' countenance, in contrast, was almost entirely stoic, save for the eyes. His eyes were brimmed with insurmountable awe, both at the how utterly miraculous that instant was and how humbled he was for being alive to experience it.

"Are you ready to meet your Godson?" Ginny asked as she beckoned them over to her. "I know I don't have to ask you both to be Godparents since I heard the whole argument outside the door. Just be glad he was already awake since I might have had to revoke your Godparenting rights, otherwise." Hermione dropped her head, chagrined, but walked forward nevertheless and tentatively drew little James into her arms before sitting herself closely beside Sirius in the visitor's chairs. Sirius' arms reached out toward Hermione and James, prompting her to adjust him to where they were both supporting him, cradling him between them in their emanated warmth and worship

"Hi, Jamie." Wept Hermione as she peered down into his newborn-blue eyes and scrunchy pink face. "I am going to love you so much, little one. I am going to play 'cars' with you, and bring you to the park, and read stories with you. I might drive you crazy sometimes, especially when I scold you for flying your broom too high or exchange all of your sweets for sugar-free, but I will always protect you and always, _always_ love you."

Sirius had much less to say, still rendered speechless by the emotional intensity, and instead wiped away the wetness on his face, completely unabashed at his tears, and regarded Hermione almost reverently while she cooed at their shared prized joy. Harry remained quiet as he watched them interact with his son for the first time. It was so soft, gentle and adoring, and just so uncharacteristically domestic. He watched as Sirius' attention vacillated between James and Hermione, he watched as Hermione looked back at him with the most uncontained and unadulterated smile he'd ever witnessed from her, and he watched as she shifted closer to his Godfather, hands intertwining as they held _their Jamie_ with the most rapturous sigh.

The contentment was short-fated, however, as all too soon the door banged open and a five-year-old boy jumped unceremoniously onto the hospital cot beside one Ginny. Teddy's hair was bubble-gum pink, a tell-tale sign of his happiness, and his pudgy arms were thrust out in front of him demanding his 'baby bwother,' sending the room's accupants to ring their jubilant laughter through the room. The mirthful, yet wistful, looks passed between Hermione and Sirius, the panted apologies from Remus as he leaned on the doorframe having finally caught up to his son, the gentle instruction Ginny gave _his_ Godson as she helped him hold _his_ son...

This was good. This was family.

 **Author's Note:**

 _Hey, readers! Sorry again for the short transition chapter last week, I hope this makes up for it. This chapter made me sooo nostalgic when writing because it kept making me flash back to when my_ own _son was born and it just goes by so. darn. fast. Anyway- hope you guys enjoyed it. Happy Memorial Day!_


	10. Okay-- So Maybe Not Perfect

**Present. The Potter Residence. 2002.**

 _What had Sirius done now?_

Harry watched on.

He watched as Hermione's face sagged further into spiraling turmoil. He watched as Sirius hastily diverted her attention away from whatever blunder he'd made by a dramatic scoff which could only be deduced as yet another reprehensible insult. He watched Hermione's eyes as their shocked bewilderment was directly succeeded by a fiery gleam of righteous indignation and a desperate hunger for the next quip. And he watched as Sirius' face shuffled through a looping series of smirks, sneers, and enraged glares laced with a ghosting quiver of amusement- all the while rendered incapable of dousing the smoldering glint of his consuming adoration screaming out from within his _own_ eyes.

Their limbs flailed in a display of spastic pseudo-miming. Hermione's sparking tresses seared through her strained hairband, tumbling the mass of curls down to sizzle around her shoulders, the gentle whip of the breeze only feeding their magicked anger. Sirius toothily grimaced as he fell into a nervous tick of pinching an unlit cigarette between his lips and distractedly returning it to the carton. The repetative quirk only served to further ignite Hermione's fury as she savagely ripped the butt out of his mouth with chastising condescension. Unaffected, he slowly moved to retrieve a fresh cigarette and antagonistically placed it to loosely hang out the corner of his leering mouth, all the while maintaining constant and unblinking eye contact with the irate woman in front of him. This, too, was viciously torn from his lips and hostilely thrown toward his feet. Unwilling to extend the game, Hermione made to grasp at the carton itself with every intention of putting an immediate halt to the match entirely.

Harry felt as if the muted scene before him had curtailed into a slow-motion schtick.

Half way to her seizure of the pack of cigarettes, Sirius grabbed Hermione's wrist and forcefully yanked her forward to further encroach on his own personal space. He bent her wrist backward as her eyes narrowed dangerously, leading him to release her with both hands up in mock surrender. Hermione was slowly retracting her hand when he ducked his head in defeat. In the last few moments of her arm's escape, she was forced off-balance by Sirius' eyes which had peered up at her from beneath his enviably dark, thick lashes with a most sincerely imploring expression.

Hermione's breath visibly hitched and there was hushed murmuring amongst the collective astonishment of his family, still watching beside him at the window, at the devastatingly ingenuous composition of Sirius' face. It was so foreign, so authentic and uncontrived, so- well, _serious_.

Sirius once again collected Hermione's wrist into his palm, gentleness this time superseding his possessiveness, as he smoothed reaffirming circles reverently onto its soft underside. His arms engulfed her in the tenderness of his embrace, treasuring the feel of her in their grasp. Roused from her shock, Hermione stiffened within the circle of his extremities. Snaking her arms out of his clutches, she gave a sharp push to his chest, effectively breaking the magic of his confession before her palm collided harshly with his face. As her hand dragged down his cheek in the defeated aftermath of her strike, anger did not breach her face, it was fear.

Sirius' eyes flashed with a blending of anger and pain. Instead of a lashing, verbal rebuttal, he firmly grasped Hermione by the shoulders and planted his lips on hers in an act of defiance, earning another sharp strike to even out the first. They stood there, heatedly staring at each other in both rage and want. It was Hermione's turn to roughly lurch herself forward until their mouths met, battling Sirius' lips before conceding to them while still conveying all of her anger toward them. There was no poetry, no romance, no niceties, only raw and wounded emotion.

While the prying audience inside averted their gaze and a smattering of hands launching to cover Teddy's eyes, the dysfunctional couple outside broke apart with a gasp and a nervous smile. Everything was different, now.

Sirius took a hesitant step forward as Hermione fearfully stumbled a step back. When she had recollected her bearings, she reciprocated his initiative by fumbling forward as he shied, but did not move, away from her reach. Their noses met cautiously in the middle, each terrified at knowing the next time their lips collided was the point of no return. Sirius was the first to move as he cocked is head ever so slightly to the side before pressing a kiss to her lips.

It was a chaste kiss, a sweet kiss. He pressed another onto her. Then a third, and was met by the most beautiful smile against his mouth before Hermione cloaked Sirius' neck with her arms, solidifying their lips' caress.

Harry brimmed with pride as he saw the change in them; _this_ is what a first kiss should be, but Godric knew those two were anything but conventional.

"See, Teddy?" Harry boastfully asked the small boy next to him, removing his hands from his Godson's eyes. "No more fighting."

He turned back to watch as Hermione and Sirius broke apart, unprecidented contentment plainly painted across their faces. Hermione's legs were weak from the emotional encumberment and Sirius caught her as they buckled, supporting her as they collapsed knee to knee on the ground. His thumbs coaxed the tears away from her eyes and glazed the lines of relief and mild confusion off her face. Hermione tucked her head into the cradle of Sirius' neck as he wrapped his arms protectively around her waist, gathering her fondly onto his lap.

"Great. Now they're just going to kiss all the time now, aren't they?" Came the sudden outburst from the disgusted seven-(and a half) year-old, who _really_ was not into the 'icky, gooey stuff.'

"Ugh, this is going to be _so much worse_ than the fighting!" Snickers followed Teddy's lamentations as he marched up the stairs to join the other kids, leaving behind an embarrassed Remus who hid his reddened face behind his hands.

Realizing their intrusion time into the intimate moment between Hermion and Sirius had reached its expiration, the family gradually trickled away from the window and soon only Harry was left to gaze out at the people who first made him whole again.

At first, it had been hilarious for Harry to watch his best friend, his sister in every way but blood, dodging and countering the verbal lance of his godfather. But now he'd seen them fall and it wasn't so hilarious. It was... _beautiful_.

Harry turned away from the window, smiling to himself and reminiscing over the years of tribulation that had brought them to that very point. Everything had finally come to fruitation.

 _Everything was going to be perfect from there on out._

X

Suddenly, the front door to his home banged open with an overabundance of zeal as Hermione came raging into the house, closely followed by a devilishly grinning Sirius.

"No, Sirius! No, no, _no_! You do not just get to fight, kiss, _and then propose_ , you unmitigated _arse_!"

And with that, Hermione stormed up the stairs and was not to be seen for the remainder of the evening. Sirius merely turned to Harry, throwing him a one-shouldered shrug and an equally lopsided smirk, before sauntering off in search of pie.

 _Okay- so maybe not perfect. After all, those two are like oil and water._

 **Author's Note:**

 _And that's a wrap, folks! My first official story is actually done... crazy! I hope you guys enjoyed the ride. You've been absolutely fabulous and I've cherished all of your reviews. Cheers to all of you!_

 _Love,_

 _D_


End file.
